


Days like these.

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dry Humping, Holidays, Impala Sex, M/M, Relaxation, Wall Sex, Weekend Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:39:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean treats Sam to a weekend away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Days like these.

**Author's Note:**

> Big honking thanks goes out to wings128 for her hand holding and ego soothing on this one :)

The heat from the setting sun seeps through layers of leather and plaid, warming Dean's body, chasing away raised flesh and dark thoughts.

This is Dean's favourite time of the day. Of any day. Just him and his little brother, blacktop stretching for miles, face melting rock tunes blasting from Baby's speakers, the unknown ahead of them.

They've closed another case, solved another mystery.

Dean chuckles to himself as an image of Sam in a bright green pullover, hair mussed, dopey animated Great Dane at his side, floats across his imagination.

Does that make him Fred?

Dean shakes his head and grimaces at the thought of wearing an ascot and flexes his fingers against Baby's intricately stitched leather.

Sam's asleep in the passenger seat, grunting quietly and snoring, face squashed up against his closed window.

It's times like these Dean wishes he'd sucked it up and installed modern electrics in the car. Not because he wants Sam to be able to hook his god awful iPod up to her stereo, the very idea of a cold piece of plastic stuck to her dash makes Dean gag. No, because it'd mean he could wind Sam's window down without having to pull her over and yank the handle.

Dean can just see Sammy's face being unceremoniously flopped into the open air. Comedy gold that would _never_ get old.

Letting his eyes slip from the road, Dean lays a hand on Sam's knee and watches as his brother's leg automatically shifts closer. He's loathe to wake him, Sam rarely gets peaceful undisturbed slumber. His overactive imagination twists the horrors of their waking world until he ends up writhing and begging in his sleep.

More than once Dean's wanted to be able to step inside Sam's mind brandishing weapons and a gung ho expression, to be allowed to vanquish the demons no one else can see. Instead he's learned to wrap himself around Sam, let his heat and weight pull his brother back from whatever barren landscape his nightmare's have created.

Dean squeezes Sam's knee, relishing the warmth.

Sam comes to slowly, eyes focusing on Dean's face. He wipes drool from his chin and rubs at his flattened cheek, "Hey."

Dean drums his fingers against Sam's leg and smiles, "Hey Sammy. Sleep okay?"

Sam straightens in his seat and rolls his shoulders, attempting to work out the kinks sleeping in the car always creates, "As well as I ever do in here. How long have I been out?"

Dean smirks and looks back at the road, "Three hours. Anyone ever tell you that you sleep like an animal, wipe the spit off the window would you."

Sam grins and wipes the sleeve of his jacket across the passenger window then laces his fingers with Dean's still resting on his knee, "Sorry. Where we headed anyway?"

"Montana."

Sam sees Dean's 'sneaky child' look flit across his brother's features and pulls their joined hands into his lap, stroking the pad of his thumb across Dean's knuckles, "What's in Montana, Case?"

Dean shakes his head no but offers no further information and Sam doesn't push. Dean'll tell him when he wants.

This is Sam's favourite time of the day. Of any day. Time to themselves, no evil beasts snapping at their heels. The little unseen moments between them. Dean ecstatic to be behind the wheel of his Baby, small smile gracing his rugged features, eyes alight with the setting sun and possibilities.

He thinks back to those times over the years they've managed to snatch a few precious hours and smiles. It's been an age since they got chance to just relax, for days at a time, but as long as he can have Dean to himself like this, during the in between, Sam thinks he'll cope, "We bedding down tonight or sleeping in the car?"

Dean extracts his hand from Sam's lap and reaches into his jacket pocket. Pulling out a folded leaflet, Dean flicks his wrist and manages to hit Sam in the face with it, "Thought we might go there."

Sam rubs his nose, gives his brother a withering look and unfolds the pamphlet, eyes scanning text and pictures, not sure he's understanding what he's seeing, "Wait, here? You mean..."

Dean rolls his eyes and smirks at Sam, "You've been on me for _weeks_ Sammy, 'We need some time off, I need some time off', so...yeah."

Sam lets his eyes linger on the image of a secluded cabin on the edge of a beautiful lake, greens and blues of the water almost real enough to run his fingers through, and bounces in his seat, "No monsters, no angels or demons. No leviathans, just _us_?"

Dean lets Sam's joy wash over him and laughs at his little brother's impression of a twelve year old on Christmas morning, "Just us. No one around for miles. _Miles_ Sammy."

Sam chucks the leaflet in the back seat and lunges at Dean, wrapping his arms round Dean's neck, not caring he's about to make his brother crash his precious car, "Thank you. _Thank you_!"

Dean bats at Sam's arms and struggles to keep Baby on her side of the road, "Leave off would you, you'll get us killed," but there's no real weight to the words. This is what he loves. Sam staring at him like he's the last drop of water in the desert. Like he's Santa and the Easter bunny all rolled into one, "We should be there soon, another couple of hours max."

Sam unhooks his arms from Dean's neck and settles back into his seat, "When did you..."

Dean chuckles and flips radio stations, "While you were showering before we left that last rathole. Found the leaflet at the front desk, thought we could use a couple of days peace and quiet."

Dean's mood swings and personality shifts give Sam whiplash some days. He can be such an ogre and then pull this out of his ass and turn Sam into a pile of happy goo. Sam watches Dean watch the road, cheery grin plastered across his face at the thought of days alone with his little brother, and promises not to give Dean too much grief the next time he annoys the living crap out of him.

Laying a hand on Dean's inner thigh, Sam squeezes and waits for Dean's eyes to reach his, "Seriously, thank you."

Dean nods at Sammy and turns back to the road.

Sam idly scratches at Dean's inseam, letting his too long nails play across the stiff material of his brother's jeans, enjoying the _scritchscritchscritch_ sound it makes. He so busy amusing himself he doesn't notice Dean widening his legs and sliding further down in his seat. He doesn't see Dean's eyes shading over or the way his fingers grip Baby's steering wheel tighter.

It's only the barely audible groan that pulls Sam's attention away from Dean's leg, "De..."

Dean can feel the warmth of Sam's hand branding him through his trousers and his body responds on instinct. Sense memory kicking in, ghosting images of those hands on heated flesh, forcing him to writhe and pant beneath his brother. Dean's vision blurs a little at the edges and he can't stop the soft moan escaping, "Sammy, unless you _really_ wanna crash this car, stop."

Sam realises what his fingers on Dean's leg have done and gets a little kick out of the idea that he only has to lay hands on his brother to get a reaction. Heat pools in his own belly at the look on Dean's face and his fingers move of their own volition, nails digging in a little harder. Using the seam of Dean's jeans as a guide, Sam lets his fingers run the length of his brother's leg, from the crease of his thigh all the way to Dean's ankle. Never taking his eyes from Dean's face, enjoying the flush in his cheeks, the parting of Dean's lips.

Dean's moments away from veering off the road. He can feel the scrape of Sam's nails not quite where he needs them and his cock twitches at the thought of little brother's calloused hands on his overheated flesh, "Sammy..."

Sam smirks but refuses to remove his hand, instead trailing his fingertips back up to Dean's crotch. His brother's already hard cock is twitching and straining in the confines of his jeans, causing a bulge that Sam can drum his fingers against. Sam twists his wrist, slides his fingers beneath Dean's denim covered balls and squeezes, grinding the heel of his palm down hard, "Yes Dean..."

Dean lets his eyes drift closed for just a second and feels the _tickticktick_ of the chevrons under Baby's wheels and decides that if he doesn't want to spend the next two days fixing her dented grill, he best pull over, quick. Sam's hands are doing excruciating things to his nerves. Every time Sam palms his cock through his trousers, Dean's toes convulse, curling in on themselves, forcing his foot down hard on the gas peddle, "Don't start something...you can't finish..."

Sam sees Dean flick the indicator with shaking fingers and reaches over with his free hand, popping the button on his brother's jeans. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lowers Dean's zipper and is pleased to find nothing between his trousers and his straining cock, "Commando De...really?"

Dean's in the process of trying to pull Baby over when he feels Sam's fingers slip inside his jeans and nearly spins her in a complete 180, "Fucking hell Sam."

Sam hooks a finger behind Dean's cock, tugs against pulsing flesh until it's standing proud and enticing, drop of pre-come glistening at the tip. Sam scoots his ass back in his seat, bends himself forward, squashing his own erection into his belly, and cranes his neck. Tongue darting out of his mouth, Sam laps quickly at Dean's tip and has to suppress a chuckle when Dean slams down hard on the brakes and swears.

"For fuck... _Sam_ ," Dean doesn't actually care if he totals the car, not when Sam's tongue is just, _just_ wrapping round the head of his cock and he thinks he might implode if he doesn't get to fuck his little brother's filthy mouth this instant, "Please, Sammy....don't be a fucking tease."

Snaking a hand across under the dash, feeling his way to the keys, Sam flicks the ignition, silencing Baby's purr. Hooking a hand behind the seat, never removing his tongue from Dean's cock, Sam clicks the seat control that will lower Dean's side.

Dean wiggles his ass, hoping Sam will take pity and engulf him in slick heat, when he feels his seat fly backwards and flings his hands out in front of him. Coming into contact with the back of Sam's head, he tangles his fingers in thick hair and digs his nails in, "God, please..."

Sam feels Dean's insistent fingers urging him on and finally widens his mouth, flattens his tongue against his teeth and slides Dean's length all the way to the back of his throat.

Dean's whole body is vibrating, painful shots of adrenaline coursing along his veins until all he can feel is Sam's wet mouth working his aching cock, "Nrgghh."

Sam begins to hum, knowing it will cause Dean's cock, nestled snug in his throat, to jerk and leak. He hollows his cheeks and sucks Dean down, sweeping the flat of his tongue along the underside, working the vein pulsing there. 

Dean parts his legs as far as they'll go and presses down on Sam's neck, forcing his cock to the very back of his brother's throat. Thrusting upwards, Dean knows he's banging up against Sam's tonsils but can't bring himself to pull back. The feel of moist warmth surrounding him is bliss. Fucking bliss.

Sam widens his throat, let's Dean fuck his mouth. Rasping his tongue against the head of Dean's twitching cock, Sam feels Dean's coarse curls itching at his nose and has to fight the urge to sneeze and gag. Sam repositions the hand inside Dean's jeans, forces two fingers underneath his brother's balls and massages the soft skin just behind.

Dean feels pressure building, flashes of electricity shooting from his cock to his toes, setting his skin on fire, turning his brain into a mess of jumbled sensation. 

Sam continues to wiggle and slide his fingers back and forth between Dean's legs and grasps the base of his shaft in the other hand, gripping him tight and twisting. The sound of Dean's voice in his ears spurs him on and he pulls back a little, far enough to jerk Dean's cock against his palm whilst suckling his tip between his lips.

An explosion of colour behind Dean's eyes signals the beginning of his orgasm and he yanks hard on Sam's hair, thrusts his hips in a violent and erratic rhythm, "Sammy, I'm gonna, oh fuck I'm gonna..."

Sam tilts his head and scrapes the tip of his tongue along Dean's slit. Dean's leg's stiffen, nearly kicking a hole in Baby's dash, as Sam's mouth is filled with hot salty come. It forces it's way across his tongue and cascades down his throat and Sam swallows it all. Every drop.

" _Sam_."

Sam massages the underside of Dean's cock until there's nothing left to taste and lets it drop from his lips. Sitting up, watching the flush of Dean's orgasm creep across his brother's cheeks, Sam reaches out and cups Dean's face, "Something I can't finish huh?"

Dean's chest is heaving and he's having trouble seeing Sam but he leans into the touch and smiles, "Yeah, yeah. No need to be smug." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean's about ready to kill Sammy if he doesn't start behaving himself. He's going to lean right over and shove him out the moving car, "For the love of...will you please stop that!"

Sam's been bouncing in his seat and tapping his fingertips against Baby's dash for the last forty five minutes and the longer he's kept confined the more excited he becomes, "But _Dean_...."

Dean rolls his eyes and cuffs his little brother round the back of the head, enjoying the satisfying _thwack_ of his palm making contact with Sammy's skull, "Nearly okay, _nearly_! So stop it before I tie you up and stuff you in the trunk!"

Sam knows he's driving Dean insane and he may be exaggerating his level of excitement, just a tiny bit, but he really wants to see how many times he can make his brother roll his eyes before he reaches his limit, "But I'm bored, we've gotta be nearly there by now."

Dean huffs but can't quite hide his smirk. He knows exactly what Sammy's up to and it's kind of cute. Aggravating as all hell, but cute, "Well stow it Sasquatch or," Dean gives Sam an amped up version of their father's favourite ‘exasperated parent’ face, “I’ll turn this car around!” Sam’s bark of laughter is loud and infectious and Dean can't help his answering smile.

Sam watches scenery slide by his open window and finds himself wide eyed and breathless, like a kid at the end of term. It's been _so_ long since he and Dean have managed to get away from it all, 'Vegas Week' not withstanding, and the possibilities for two nights alone are endless. There's walking and reading and candle lit dinners and listening to their favourite songs in a house full of nothing but peace and quiet. All the things no one would ever think the brother's enjoy but that's only because they don't get the chance to indulge very often.

Plus, it doesn't hurt that they'll have a big double bed and no nosey grouchy old hunter hanging over their shoulders. Bobby's place was fine, before it got fire balled, but it gets old having to sneak around at night. Not because he doesn't know about the boys, he'd have to be an idiot not to notice that only one bed ever got slept in. No, because Sam and Dean didn't really feel comfortable screwing like jack rabbits in their surrogate father's house. Even less so in Rufus's little hide out. It'd be like getting blown with John in the bed next door. Not that they didn't do _that_ a few times when they were teenagers.

Dean keeps one eye on Sam as he tries to make out the correct turning for their cabin. Sam hasn't looked this relaxed in a very long time. The lines around his eyes are shallower, his smile is wide enough that Dean can see his back teeth and he looks younger somehow. Like even just the thought of a couple of days away has lifted a weight off his shoulders. Dean thinks that he should probably make more of an effort to drag Sammy away once in a while if this is what happens to him.

They've left behind rough ground and sparse wide open spaces and are surrounded by the tallest trees and thickest undergrowth either of them has seen in a long while and Sam can feel the ozone seeping into his pores, reinvigorating both his body and mind, maybe even his soul, "It's so _green_."

"Sam, you can't use green as a descriptive word...wait, I mean, okay you know what I mean. They're just trees dude," but Dean knows this is exactly what Sam needs. Sunshine and nature and the possibility of laying out in the shade of the pines with a book and a bottle of beer. Dean may be content to spend his entire life on the road, hacking and slashing, or all of his down time under the hood of the car, but Sam's more of an 'outdoors' type and Dean thinks he might be able to put up with the threat of poison ivy and bug bites if it makes his little brother this happy.

Sam turns towards Dean and grins, a huge toothy smile that crinkles the skin around his eyes, then leans out of the window, relishing the wind whipping properly fresh air into his face. The scent of freshwater is almost overpowering and he inhales large lung fulls, drinking his fill.

Dean lets one short sharp burst of laughter escape and spins the steering wheel, “You do realise you look like a dog, right?”

Sam chooses not to answer but smirks and pulls his head back inside the car, "It's just so...so..." Sam's searching for the right adjective when the bluest stretch of water he's ever seen comes into view, "...beautiful."

Dean vaguely thinks about ripping it out of Sam but he's not wrong and Dean can't bring himself to ruin his little brother's good mood, "Yeah, it is."

Nestled on the edge of the biggest, calmest, clearest lake is their cabin. Slightly tumble down with roses ringing the eaves and an old fashioned mail box at the end of the driveway. It's like something out of a civil war novel and Sam's reminded of a lake just like this in Wisconsin from so many years ago.

Dean puts her in park and waits for Sam to jump from the car. He's barely killed the engine when Sam's off and round the front of the house, staring longingly at the vast expanse of crystalline water.

The unbroken surface is so inviting Sam can already feel it washing over his skin, cleansing him, and is seriously considering stripping off and jumping in when Dean’s voice hauls him back to himself.

“Don’t you dare! I’m not putting up with your soggy socks piled in the kitchen.”

Sam pouts and shoves his hands in his pockets, "Spoil sport!"

Dean shakes his head and rolls his eyes before walking towards the front door. Crooking a finger at Sam he clucks his tongue and chuckles, "Come on numb nuts, let's check there's a washer dryer before you go all Michael Phelps on me," off Sam's puzzled look Dean shrugs and slots the key in the lock, "Hey, I watch ESPN, swimming's a sport."

Sam reluctantly moves away from the water's edge and follows Dean inside.

It's a modest place; lounge space just off the front hallway, light and airy with big bay windows looking out over the lake. Kitchen towards the back of the building, from Sam's height and angle he can just see the edge of an old fashioned AGA through the doorway. Off to the right of the entrance is a bedroom complete with oak four poster king size bed. It's basically lovely but he holds off on saying it out loud. Dean's too quick to pick up on Sam's more feminine side and he's not in the mood for defending his masculinity, not when he's so chilled out, "Nice."

Dean scans the inside of their home for the next two nights and apart from the chintzy bedding and overly flowery drapes it's as good a place as any to spend some down time with his baby brother, "Yeah, although I think my testicles are gonna shrivel having to sleep in _those_ sheets."

Sam laughs and sheds his jacket, "Don't worry, I'm sure we can 'butch' them up."

Dean shucks his own jacket and chucks it over a chair and heads back out passed Sam, "Oi, don't get comfy, I'm not lugging bags in on my own."

Sam sighs and follows Dean back out to the car. He hauls his duffel from the backseat and briefly considers grabbing a few 'supplies' from the boot but doesn't want to jinx the weekend before it's even started, "We're gonna have to get food you know. There's a kitchen in there and you are not eating take out for the next three days."

Dean sighs and drags his own bag from behind his seat before locking the car up, hopefully for the foreseeable future, "Yeah, the leaflet said there's a supply store just across the lake. Wander over later?"

Sam thinks he could quite happily 'wander' along the edge of the lake all evening so smiles, nods and heads back to the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam's so relaxed you could pour him into a jug. He's had three beers and not one phone call signalling the end of the world and his large hand is clasped in Dean's smaller one as they stroll along the forest path towards the supply store. He looks down at their joined hands and thinks maybe Dean's a little more of a girl than he lets on most the time.

Usually Sam wouldn't even dare to try and hold Dean's hand out in public. Not because Dean doesn't like public shows of affection, in fact Sam's had to literally pin his hands to his sides some nights when they've been knocking them back in some random bar, but because it's normally something Dean doesn't do. Hand holding is something he thinks old married couples do in the park, not two burly broad chested hunters who tend to deal with people who aren't same sex relationship friendly.

Dean follows Sam's line of sight and realises he's happily swinging his arm and gripping Sam's fingers with his own. Instead of pulling away he smirks and wiggles his fingers, pinning Sam's knuckles between his own and refuses to let go when Sam yelps and tries to free himself.

"Ouch, dude, not cool."

Dean stops crushing Sam's knuckles and lets their hands hang between them, "Sorry man, too easy."

Sam can see the trees thinning out giving way to a small town; one old fashioned inn, one general store and a boating and fishing supply shop, "Well, if you wanna go out on the lake, I can always get you some water wings."

Dean jabs Sam in the ribs and gives him a withering look, "Fuck off jackass. If I remember correctly you were the one who didn't learn to swim 'til you were ten years old, and even then I had to let you sit on my shoulders to get you in the water."

Sam flushes at the memory and pokes his tongue out at his brother, "Hey, you try being told that monsters are real and then _not_ hear the jaws theme every time you step a toe in the water. I was so afraid OctoShark was gonna chomp me in half I couldn't even get in the bath without freaking out. Dad's fault man."

Dean takes pity and smooths the pad of his thumb against the back of Sam's hand, "You got over it eventually."

Sam smiles and nods, "Yeah, you were a good teacher."

Dean accepts the compliment without comment and pulls Sam in the direction of the inn, "Wet your whistle Sammy?"

"Food first or we'll end up stumbling back and having to catch our own dinner and you _suck_ with a rod."

Dean waggles his eyebrows and smirks, "Not _all_ rods Sam. Like you're any better at fishing."

Sam chuckles and drags Dean away from the front door of the pub.

The bell above the door in the general store tinkles as they wander in, hands still clasped, relaxed grins on their faces.

"Well hello boys. What can we do for you two long tall drinks of water?"

The woman behind the counter is a plump grinning granny smith type and Sam finds himself smiling back at her without thinking, "Hi, yeah, we need some supplies. We're in the cabin across the lake."

Dean's trying to work out how old she is when she catches him staring and wags her finger in his face, "Not polite to ask a lady's age son."

"How did you..."

She chuckles and comes out from behind the counter with a wicker basket clasped in her hands, "Well, regardless of how old I am, you don't get to be my age without getting a little wiser. Plus no one round here can figure it out either. I just keep saying twenty one again, they stopped asking about ten years back."

Sam watches the exchange and decides he really likes this woman. Anyone who can make Dean blush and shuffle his feet is okay in his book, "Excuse my...partner, he's a bit uncouth, you get used to him though."

Dean gives Sam a 'what the fuck' look, raises his eyebrows and mouths _Uncouth_.

Sam shrugs and leans in, "I took an 18th century lit class in college. You always struck me as uncouth."

Dean bats at Sam's shoulder but his brother's already let his hand drop and is following the woman around the store. 

Sam trails behind the store clerk and starts grabbing things off the shelves. He's got arms full of groceries before the woman with the friendly smile turns and motions for him to drop them in the basket, "I can take that ma'am."

"Ma'am was my mother and I'm fine. It's Ellie by the way."

"Okay Ellie, but are you sure..."

"Don't make me tell you twice boy."

Dean watches Sam shift around and hang his head and thinks payback is a slightly greying lady in pink gingham, "And I'm uncouth?"

Sam reaches back and flips Dean off but quickly slides his hand into his hair when Ellie stares back at the pair of them and tutts, "Boys! You two fella's been together long?"

Dean answers before Sam can open his mouth, "Seems like _forever_ ," he'd meant it to come out snarky to try and get a rise out of Sam but the hitch in his voice is evident even to his ears and he laughs at his own sappiness.

Sam smiles to himself and thinks back to their first 'encounter' as anything other than brothers and starts counting on his fingers, "Fourteen years, on and off."

Ellie tilts her head and places a box full of fresh made pastries in the basket, "On and off? You two seem to make more sense than most other couples we get in here...."

Dean thinks he should be a little offended at her blatantly personal comments but he can't bring himself to be when she sounds so genuine and it's not like Sam gets to talk about them like this very often, so he lets the line of questioning slide in favour of eyeing up the sweet wrack next to him.

Sam's not really paying Ellie or his brother much attention, his mind's passing back over all those occasions he and Dean have been 'off'. He wishes, even now with them having stitched up most of the old wounds, that they hadn't lost so much _time_. He feels Dean's hand at the small of his back and smiles sadly over his shoulder.

"Hey, Sammy, we're all good, don't sweat it."

Ellie watches the exchange and thinks maybe there's more to these two than meets the eye but can sense their affection for each other, hell she can see it in the way they lean into each other, even if they aren't within touching distance, "Sorry son, didn't mean to pry. Don't mind me, just a silly old woman nosing at things she shouldn't."

Sam shakes himself and grins at Ellie, "No problem. I think we're about done here," Sam looks down at the overflowing basket full of tasty treats in Ellie's hands and grins, "Don't you?"

Dean starts digging around in his jeans for the handful of bills he knows are there, not feeling _right_ about giving her a fake credit card, "How much do we owe you Ellie?"

She grins and heads back to the counter to bag up their supplies, "$30 for cash."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Sam and Dean stumble back along the forest path, Sam thinks it's been a good night, a really good night. He's three sheets to the wind, Dean isn't far behind him and they've managed to make new friends. For a change.

Usually when they rock up in some new place the locals all steer well clear of the two surly looking men with chips on their shoulders. Not this time. The clean air and relaxed pace of the town has worked it's way into their systems and they haven't stopped laughing and joking all night. Apparently Dean's more of a people person than Sam gives him credit for.

The guy that practically lives in the corner of the Smuggler's Cove Inn, Alfred? Sam thinks it was Alfred. The whiskey and pleasant conversation have gone to his head and he's having trouble remembering everyone's names. Anyway, he'd been a complete character, full of tall tales and sarcastic comments that even had Dean laughing like a drain.

Sam thought they'd have trouble, what with them being 'different', but apparently this end of Montana has come along nicely into the twenty first century and they couldn't give a crap whether you're bumping uglies with another guy or not. It's a refreshing change and means that Sam got to watch Dean chilling out and enjoying himself instead of being always on alert for some idiot wanting to start a fight over their choice in partner.

_Dean scans the interior of the pub and notes the fishing memorabilia and pirate themed decorations and grins to himself, "Two beers please."_

_A curvy woman, Dean thinks she's probably close to middle age but wearing it well, smiles and nods, "Coming up sugar." She reminds him of Ellen, open smile and sneaky sparkle in her eyes._

_He turns to Sam and motions for him to stow their bags of shopping and take a seat at the bar, "She was nice, nosey, but nice."_

_Sam shakes his head and swats Dean on the arm, "Be polite, she's just a sweet old country woman. It was nice to be asked."_

_Dean snags his beer off the bar and rolls his eyes, "You'll be writing a blog next, 'The Sam and Dean story', with hearts and flowers and horrendous elevator music."_

_Sam flips Dean the 'V' and takes a long pull on his beer, "Shut up smartass. It's nice here. Peaceful."_

_Dean nods, slides onto a bar stool and surveys the scene. There's a couple in one corner, holding hands and giving each other goo-goo eyes. He spots Sam noticing them and shakes his head, "Don't even think about it Sasquatch."_

_Sam sighs and takes another pull on his beer. Dean's an affectionate enough guy but even Sam's not idiotic enough to push it in the middle of a pub. He'd probably end up on his ass in the corner, "Don't worry macho man, I wouldn't dream of making you go all soppy in public."_

_Dean hears the hurt in Sam's voice and snakes a hand onto his thigh, gives it a squeeze and goes back to people watching, "Good to hear."_

_Sam sees an old guy at the end of the bar giving them a _look_ and braces for some comment that'll get Dean's back up._

_The man tilts his head and clears his throat, "You two over at the cabin?"_

_Sam nods warily and leans back against the bar._

_"That your fine bit of machinery parked out back?"_

_The tension in Sam's shoulders eases and he shakes his head no, "She's all his. Pride and joy."_

_Sam taps Dean on the hip and points at the guy in the corner, "This gentleman was just asking about the Impala."_

_Dean turns towards the end of the bar, enthusiastic grin on his face, and puts his hand out for the older man to shake, "Dean, yep, she's all mine. Beauty isn't she?"_

_The man clasps Dean's hand between both of his and gives a smile that reveals several missing teeth, "That she is son, when I was your age had me this cherry piece. 1935 mustang, white wall tyres and walnut interior. She didn't drag ass let me tell you..."_

The night had gone on like that, Dean and Alfred waxing lyrical over engine sizes and horse powers until Sam had physically had to drag Dean away before they ended up so drunk they couldn't walk home.

Sam's got arms full of bags and is watching Dean feel his way from tree to tree to stop himself having to walk home on his hands and knees, "Alright over there Dean?"

Dean giggles, since when does Dean _giggle_? And gives Sam a soft slightly off kilter look, "I'm great Sammy, really great. Thi...this place is... _hic_ this place is...well it is whatever it is. I _like_ it."

Sam laughs and readjusts the bags cutting into his fingers, "Hmm, not such a bad idea, coming away occasionally is it?"

Dean hugs a particularly large pine to stop his ass from hitting the floor and pokes his tongue out, "Alright alright, no need to be a whatshisname, you know, smart thingy.."

Sam steps closer to Dean and grins, "Do you mean a smartass. I thought you liked my smart ass! Come on lightweight, grab hold."

Dean hooks his fingers in behind Sam's belt and lets his brother guide him along the darkened path, "Oh you got no idea Sammy," letting his thumbs stroke small circles against the base of Sam's spine, Dean briefly considers jumping his brother right here, but thinks perhaps he'd best get somewhere he isn't going to have to dig pine needles out of his clothes for the next week, "Fine ass it is too."

Sam wills his drunken over active libido back down and concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean's sprawled out across their bed, softly snoring and twitching in his alcohol induced sleep and Sam finds himself sat on the edge of the mattress just watching his brother dream. He very rarely gets the chance to observe Dean like this without him cracking an eye and telling Sam it's 'rapey'. Sam makes the most of Dean's inability to stay upright and watches the different expressions play out across his brother's face.

Dean's a good looking man, even more so when he isn't plagued by day time worries or night time terrors. It's been so many years since Sam's seen him sleep soundly without the threat of impending doom hanging over his head and Sam can't seem to drag his eyes away from the small smile curving Dean's very kissable lips.

Sam lets his eyes drift closed and thinks back to the last time they did this. They were sixteen and twenty, Sam was still a gangly awkward teenager and Dean was well on his way to finding his groove, becoming the man Sam knows today.

John had been off on some hunt in the ass end of nowhere, chasing down monsters and being the hero he never believed himself to be. It’d been three blissful days of nothing but junk food, rock music loud enough to crack their eardrums and beer that Sammy was too young to drink and Dean had been too old not to.

They’d learnt each other by heart over those three days. Hands and mouths exploring endless expanses of soft skin and fantasies never before indulged.

Dean had gorged himself on Sam, brought him to the edge of sanity more times than his little brother should have been able to take. Sam wasn’t exactly a passive spectator in the unravelling of their ‘brotherly’ relationship. He’d whispered and begged and pleaded his way into his big brother’s arms, giving voice to each and every thought that up until then he’d worried made him a sinful freak.

Sam thinks that’s when he first realised he didn’t need anyone else. With Dean in his life he was always wanted, always protected and always loved.

Two years later and Sam had managed to ruin it all. Pull it down around their ears by moving thousands of miles across the country in search of a normal life, leaving Dean and what they’d built to crumble.

The amount of times Sam had been inches away from packing his crap and heading back to the only person who ever really knew him, inside and out, but he’d made his bed, he needed to lie down in it.

When Dean dragged his ass back out into the cold, Sam had desperately wanted to shrink behind Jess, to use her as a buffer between the new life he was learning to live and the old one he just couldn’t outrun.

How was he supposed to stay loyal to Jess when Dean was within touching distance? All the while he couldn’t see his brother, couldn’t inhale his scent, he was safe to pretend. 

Sam will always regret the loss of promise and possibility, the loss of a truly beautiful person from his life, but Jess’s death had meant he was at least free to follow his heart. He was free to make up for abandoning Dean the only way he knew how, by loving him. Whether Dean wanted to be loved or not.

Sam’s so deep in thought, remembering a way of life he’d forgotten even existed, he doesn’t notice Dean stirring atop the covers. The sound of Dean huffing against the bed, boots tangling in the linens, gets Sam’s attention and he thinks perhaps he should get Dean undressed before he leaves tread marks across the floral nightmare they’ll be sleeping under for the next two nights.

Sam unlaces Dean's boots as gently as he can, he makes it all the way to Dean's shirts before his brother rolls over underneath him and smiles at him fuzzily, "Hey little brother."

Sam continues to unbutton Dean's top shirt and grins down at him, "Hey big brother."

Dean twists and shifts about on the covers and realises his bottom half is clad only in shorts. Quirking a brow at Sam, Dean lets a bawdy smirk play across his lips, "I see, trying to take advantage of me in my weakened state huh Sammy..."

Sam chuckles and manages to drag both shirts over Dean's head, "Like you need taking advantage of."

Dean waits for Sam to stand away from the bed and spreads his thighs, trailing fingertips from the crease of his knee to his crotch, hand lingering just above his cotton covered cock, “Care to test that theory?”

It’s been a _really_ long time since Sam's had Dean in such a playful mood that the suggestive glint in his brother's green eyes coupled with the soft smile curving his lips is turning Sam's insides to mush and making him want to bang his chest like a caveman all at the same time. Having severe trouble focusing on anything other than the growing erection Dean’s shorts are barely covering, Sam disguises his moment of affection in an insult, “Anyone ever tell you you’re actually a bit of a slut!”

Dean hears the snark in Sam's voice but knows there's more to it than simple bravado. Sam's enjoying the closeness, the ability to touch and taste without the bitterness of betrayal souring the flavour, and Dean's right there with him.

Years ago, before the bullshit and self inflicted distance, before they'd realised how easily it could all be ripped apart, Sam was Dean's everything.

They'd still managed to tear each other and their fragile universe to shreds.

Dean's spent too many nights laying awake and alone to really believe this isn't all going to disappear when he _finally_ wakes up. He still pinches himself, dead of night when Sam's weight is pressed against his back, heat seeping through his pores, he _still_ has to check he isn't dreaming.

Sam tries to puzzle out the different emotions flitting across Dean’s usually stoic features. For the most part there’s happiness and joy and a healthy dose of horny; but the sadness Sam sees hidden behind layers of self preservation, is what forces his body to move of it’s own volition.

There’s never any conscious thought when it comes to expelling Dean’s demons so Sam automatically lean’s into his brother’s body, almost smothering him.

Levelling his gaze at his brother, Sam holds Dean’s eyes for a beat, willing the jumbled emotions to shine through, to wash away any lingering regrets, “Love you.”

Dean pulls back far enough for Sam to be able to see his face properly. He can see Sam thinks his brother’s on the verge of making some crass comment about his real name being Samantha. Any other day it would've tripped off his tongue like water over a cliff, but not today.

Instead Dean curls his fingers against Sam’s flushed cheeks and smiles; bright enough to light the room, “Love you too Sammy.”

Sam melts into the welcoming warmth of Dean's arms, fingers clutching, breath coming in short sharp bursts. He sucks Dean's unique scent into his lungs; cinnamon and wood chips, leather and day old alcohol. Dean somehow always manages to smell like stale cigarettes regardless of the fact he's never smoked a day in his life.

Dean lets his little brother crush him in the circle of his arms as his hands wander across Sam's well defined back and shoulders. There are knots along Sammy's spine, tiny inconsequential lumps and bumps that tell a story all of their own. A tale of a man who goes out and fights for what's right even when his body is crying out for relief.

If Dean were to go blind, lose his sight and never be able to gaze upon Sam's gorgeous body again, he would still know his baby boy by touch alone. 

Sam shifts against Dean, loosens his grip just enough to push up on the heels of his hands, "Dean..."

Dean's palms are burning, heat from Sam's flesh leaving invisible marks that Dean thinks will never fade, "Yeah Sammy?"

Sam never knows how many walls to lower in front of Dean.

Some days his brother will let him talk himself out, chatter nonsense words of affection until Sam's voice is hoarse and he no longer feels like his chest will burst from the not telling of a thing. Then their are those moments that Dean can't handle the sheer volume of Sam's feelings and he shuts him out with a well placed insult.

Sam doesn't think today is one of those days, but he's not willing to risk the _moment_ with overly flowery language. Instead he arches his back, presses his chest against Dean's and concentrates on the bunch and twist of his muscles beneath his brother's hands.

Sam is nestled snug between Dean's thighs and the closeness without actual contact is serving to drive the older Winchester insane. He stretches his legs, locks his ankles to Sam's hips and drags him down, forcing his brother's cock against his own through the material of their shorts. The first bite of friction is vicious, almost painful, and it rips a hiss from Sam that Dean thinks will go down in history as one of his all time favourite sounds.

Sam growls at Dean, he bares his teeth and actually growls. The sound is a surprise to his own ears but judging by the shifting shades in his big brother's eyes, it hits all the right spots.

The predatory grin Sam flashes at Dean runs straight to his cock. The tip is peeking above the waistband of Dean's shorts and there's a glistening pool of pre-come gathering in his belly button. 

Sam leans as far back on his hands as he can and drags his boxers down his legs. As the heavy, slightly damp lake air ghosts across his scorching flesh, Sam's whole body convulses, just once. He shivers between Dean's thighs and stares pointedly at his brother's still confined cock.

Dean chuckles, hooks two fingers into the waistband of his shorts and shimmies them down his legs. 

Sam laughs when Dean can't work out how to shed his last piece of clothing without relinquishing his hold on his brother's hips and starts swearing under his breath.

"Fucking bloody stupid piece of sh..."

Sam does nothing to hide his superior grin as he hooks Dean's legs over his shoulder and peels the offending material away before his brother ends up with one less thing to wear, "Smooth Dean, real smooth."

The second Dean's feet are free of constrictions he loops one leg over Sam's head and trails toes against ribs until Sam is back between his thighs, "Because you're such a Casanova."

Sam reaches up and grips Dean's ankle, deciding he looks too damn good spread wide. Dean's cock is standing proud and full, thick opaque liquid leaking along the underside, making Sam's tongue itch to take a little taste.

Every fibre of Dean's being is on edge, responding to the heat in Sam's eyes. They're no longer just green, there are flecks of gold ringing his pupils and every time Sam slides them along his hard lines, Dean's whole body tightens like razor wire, ready to snap and rip him in two, "Sammy...."

Sam anchors Dean's leg against his shoulder and forces his sharp hips in between Dean's thighs. Bracing himself against the headboard, Sam grinds their cocks together and watches, fascinated, as Dean loses all pretence of calm.

Dean's drowning in sensation. There's so little skin to skin contact between them, yet everywhere they _are_ touching is on fire. Quick hot flickers of electricity shooting from Dean's cock to his brain, making thinking about anything other than the way Sam's twisting his hips impossible. Dean flattens his palm against his chest and slides it the length of his body until his fingers come into contact with their come slicked cocks. 

Sam feels Dean's nails scraping against his cock and has to try and slow his racing heart, "Fuck!"

Dean smirks up at Sam and wraps his hand fully around their shafts. Squeezing hard enough to make the tiny hairs on Sam's arms stand on end. They can fuck and they can hug and they can ignore each other to the point of immaturity but Dean will never tire of the way Sam's cock fits perfectly into the curve of his closed fist.

Sam's not usually one for a quick fix, preferring the slow unravelling of pleasure; peeks and valleys. In this moment he could give a rat's ass about prolonged gratification. He want's to dry hump Dean into the next century and he doesn't care how much of a horny teen that makes him, "Stop fucking teasing."

Dean tilts his head and lets a belly laugh loose that has Sam staring indignantly down at him, "Not so much fun on the other side of the table is it?"

Sam growls again and sinks his teeth into Dean's jugular, sucking the skin over his canine teeth and laving the raised, rapidly reddening flesh until Dean's cock is jutting painfully into Sam's ribs.

The down right obscene noises Sammy's making are very quickly driving Dean off the edge of the map. Sam's impressive cock is pulsing and twitching, creating the most ball tingling friction. Every time Sam angles his hips downward, fucks himself into the large hand joining them, Dean thinks he might black out.

Sam's well passed the point of no return. The scent of Dean's arousal hangs heavy in the air, forcing it's way into his overloaded senses and each tiny firing nerve on his body is crackling with heat, "De...De I'm gonna..."

Dean slams his head back into the pillows, throws a hand out; gripping the bars of the headboard so tight he swears he feels them buckle. Sam stiffens between his thighs, his cock jumps and the skin ripples against Dean's palm. Sam's lithe body shudders on top of him, and it adds another layer of awesome to the already fucking fantastic heat spreading across the backs of his thighs,"Just...just..." 

Sam thinks if he could float above himself, see them writhing against each, they'd probably look like a pair of wild rutting animals but doesn't give a good god damn. His toes have worked themselves into the bed sheets, scrabbling for purchase as he tries not to slip away from Dean's grasping hand. Sam trails fingertips along Dean's outstretched arm, curls his hand against his brother's and buries his nose back in the curve of Dean's throat.

Dean locks his legs round Sam, groans long and low as their cocks both twitch and convulse in his hand. Dual streams of hot sticky come shoot across their taut belly's and Sam collapses on top of Dean, restricting his lungs so badly that Dean's vision swims.

Sam breathes through his orgasm, letting his body undulate with every hot slick spurt of come sliding between them, "Je-sus!"

Dean shoves at Sam's shoulders, tries to shift his baby brother's weight off of his chest.

Sam finally gets the hint and rolls sideways, hooking a knee between Dean's thighs and curling himself into his big brother's side, "Was it good for you?"

Dean drags down a lung full of air and flicks Sam's ear, "No, didn't enjoy it at all. That's why I just blew my wad like a teenage boy."

Sam chuckles and traces patterns in the rapidly cooling come now coating Dean's stomach.

"Ewww, Sammy, gross!"

Sam leans over and rasps his tongue against Dean's stubbly cheek and laughs, "What...I'm making spunk angels!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam wakes to a Dean-less bed and the smell of bacon frying.

His stomach rumbles and he slings his legs over the edge of the bed. Searching the floor for his jeans, not bothering with shorts, he slips into his trousers and heads in the direction of Dean's slightly off key singing mingled with the sounds of a kitchen in full use.

Leaning casually against the door frame between kitchen and lounge, Sam folds his arms across his chest and watches Dean wiggle his ass in time to the drum heavy beat pumping out of the ancient looking fm radio that's cranked up as far as it'll go, "You reckon we could find an apron that says 'Suck the Chef'..."

Dean jumps and nearly sprays fat up the back of the cooker. He hears Sam clear his throat to cover his chuckle and trains his features into that of an exasperated mother with children under foot, "Get out of my kitchen Sammy."

"But _Dean_..." Sam slides into one of the chairs leaning up against the kitchen table and smiles at his brother trying to keep a straight face.

Dean shakes his head and grins at Sam as he puts the finishing touches to the very unhealthy looking breakfast he's been up since 8am cooking, "Hope you're hungry."

Sam finally notices the plates heaped with grease laden, artery clogging food and smacks his lips, "Hell yes. Not that I'm complaining but since when did you know how to cook, I mean _cook_ cook..."

Dean affects a hurt expression and clasps the spatula he's holding to his chest, "I'm offended Sammy. You don't remember hoops-ala-Dean, or my personal favourite, lucky charms and cocoa puffs laced with strawberry sauce!"

Sam grimaces at the memory of Dean's teenage attempts to keep his little brother fed while John was off and away, "Don't remind me. What was that thing you used to make with three scoops of vanilla ice cream, a handful of chocolate m+m's and a waffle broken in half on top?"

Dean laughs at the long lost memory of the cavity inducing cure all he used to feed Sam every time John was away on a hunt long enough to have both the boys worrying, "Oh my god...I'd forgotten about that. Dean Winchesters unstoppable cheer you up treat! I only made that when you got a dose of the bitches. It was your own fault for being a total girl."

Sam sneaks a hand out to grab a rasher of bacon and gets his knuckles smacked, "Ouch! Meany, I'm telling. And that thing was so full of sugar it's a wonder I didn't end up bouncing off the walls."

Dean starts laying out plates and cutlery and waggles his eyebrows, "Maybe I should make it this weekend, wouldn't mind bouncing you off a few walls."

Sam's answer is muffled by the whole biscuit he's just stuffed in his mouth, "D'rty p'v, y'u ev'r th'n w'th an'th'n oth'r th'n y'ur c'k."

Dean sits next to Sam and rolls his eyes, feigning disgust at Sam's childish show of hunger, "Classy Sammy. I'd expect that kind of behaviour off of...well me, but you're college educated...My taste in men is definitely a little lacking these days."

Sam thwacks Dean on the shoulder and grins, bits of food still stuck between his teeth, "What can I say, you're rubbing off on me."

Dean smiles and fills his plate with enough food for three people, "Uhuh, maybe later. Hungry!"

They settle into their usual rhythm, throwing insults and lame assed lines at each other, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and good food.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam's sat at the end off the jetty, bare feet dangling in the cool clear water. It's well passed lunch time on their final day at the cabin and despite the perpetually relaxed vibe he's had since they arrived, he can feel the slow burn of real life creeping in around the edges of his blissed out mind.

Dean's got to hand the keys back in an hour and Sam's not above admitting he's totally bummed.

Dean's still inside packing the last of their stuff.

Sam had offered but he'd been unceremoniously shoved out the door and told to make the most of it because once they get back to Rufus's cabin Dean won't be lifting a finger.

Sam knows Dean's trying to give him a last moment of peace before they have to get back in it, and Sam appreciates it _a lot_.

Sam leans back on his palms, tilts his face to the sun and lets it warm his skin, reddening his cheeks and lightening his hair, and thinks back over the last two days.

They've fished, well Dean's fished. Sam just argued with his line and hook until he'd held his hand out and pouted whilst Dean dug the tiny barbed piece of metal from the end of his finger.

Sam flexes his pinky and feels the rough drag of the band aid against his skin and smiles at the memory of Dean's face when he'd realised his little brother had managed to impale himself on his hook. Anyone would've thought Sam had been shot, the fuss Dean had made. 

_"You can't go anywhere without hurting yourself can you? It's a full time job keeping you in one piece, I dunno how I get anything else done!"_

_Sam smirks at Dean as he worries his bottom lip with his teeth and studies the hook poking out of Sam's finger nail, "It's just a hook Dean, not like I got myself harpooned or anything."_

_Dean shakes his head, wiggles the hook and grins evilly when Sam winces, "Sorry, did I hurt you..."_

_"Jackass."_

The brothers have eaten on the porch every night, setting sun bathing them in warmth and light. Glasses of wine in hand, they've talked about everything and nothing all at once. The silences had been just as enjoyable as the languid conversation flowing easily between them.

That had been a turn up, apparently Dean _really_ likes wine. When he isn't struggling for a quick fix or a way to blot out the shittier parts of their life, he likes to linger over the heady scents and subtle flavours of a good bottle of red.

_"Why red Dean?"_

_"White is for girls Sammy, sorry I didn't pick you any up."_

_"Dick."_

It's been three days and two nights of nothing but Sam and Dean re-learning each other after spending so much time fighting for their lives and losing sight of who they are to and with each other.

It's been fucking bliss.

Sam grins as his face flushes at the memory of the practical application of an education in _Dean_.

_"Sammy..."_

_Sam's got his nose buried in a book and hasn't noticed Dean stood in the corner of the lounge, wearing nothing but a smile, "Huh?"_

_Dean leans against the doorframe nonchalantly and waits for Sam to look up._

_Sam finally puts the book aside and looks in Dean's direction. The sight of his brother, naked and already hard, is one that Sam will never get bored of seeing but he'd been so engrossed in 'To Kill a Mockingbird' that the image of Dean slowly stroking himself and grinning lazily takes him a little by surprise._

_Dean watches Sam's eyes widen and the blood rush to his face. There's nothing more intoxicating than Sam's eyes trailing the length of his body, his slow perusal always leaves raised flesh and warmth in it's wake. If he got to see himself through Sam's eyes a little more, he might feel less like a failure and a freak._

_Shaking his head to banish his dark thoughts, Dean stretches against the doorframe, flexes his fingers and runs the tip of one along his weeping slit before bringing it to his mouth and sucking the salty droplet onto his tongue._

_Sam instantly hardens. As Dean's tongue sweeps across his finger, tasting himself, Sam's breathing slows and his mouth waters. He knows how good his brother tastes, can practically feel that thick sticky liquid sliding down his own throat and he's on his feet and across the room._

_As Sam walks across the room, shedding clothes as he goes, Dean braces himself. Knowing his little brother as he does, he knows the sight of him licking his own pre-come covered fingers will always get the desired reaction._

_Sam slams up against Dean, pulling him into the frame of his arms, sliding him far enough away from the doorframe to flatten his back against the lounge wall, "Did you want something?"_

_Dean keeps one hand on his throbbing cock, stroking himself, as he trails the other from Sam's cheek, across his broad chest and taut stomach down to thick curls. There's no gentleness as Dean grabs Sam's rapidly hardening cock and jerks his wrist, "No, nothing at all really..."_

_Sam's entire nervous system is hardwired to where Dean's talented hand is rasping against his heated flesh. Dean knows exactly how to touch him, how rough he really likes it and Sam has to actively ignore the embarrassment of his knees already shaking, "De..."_

_Dean watches the play of emotions across Sam's ever expressive features as he speeds his movements, pulling a strangled moan from his brother, "Fancy a fuck?"_

_Sam laughs through his mumbled groans and shakes his head before leaning forward and capturing Dean's lips in a heated kiss. He forces his tongue into his brother's mouth and sweeps the inside, savouring the flavour of red wine and Dean all mingling at the back of his throat. Pulling back, eyes slightly unfocused, Sam presses his forehead against Dean's and grins, "Ever the romantic."_

_Dean raises a knee, locks it against Sam's hip, hooks his foot into the small of his brother's back and grinds himself into Sam, making it unmistakably clear exactly what he wants. Dean stops pumping his fist round Sam, lets his own cock drop from his grasp and clamps down on Sam's shoulders._

_Sam reaches between Dean's spread legs, slides two fingers along the soft skin underneath his balls only to come into contact with an already lube slicked hole, " _Dean_!"_

_Dean's grin is neither sheepish or apologetic._

_He'd been getting changed after dinner and had an overwhelming urge to be royally fucked. There's nothing his little brother loves more than the knowledge that Dean's been thinking about his cock buried balls deep, so he'd laid out on the bed, covered his hands in cold lube and worked himself into a frenzy imagining Sam's hips slamming against his thighs. It had taken great force of will not to take himself in hand and ring the orgasm begging to be let loose out of his thrumming body._

_Dean wiggles his ass against Sam's hand, rotates his hips so the tip of his brother's middle finger breaches his loosened muscles and bares down. No matter how ready Dean is, that first finger, all the way to Sam's knuckle, always turns him into a panting wreck. Breathing hard, Dean bucks his hips and groans, "Sammy, not getting any less horny here..."_

_Sam's brain isn't working, not the cognitive parts at any rate._

_Dean's been in their bedroom finger fucking himself into readiness and it makes Sam harder than ever. _That_ image is getting stored for later use. When they're stuck in confined quarters with people who can't know about them, Sam will slink off to the nearest bathroom and have immense amounts of fun imagining Dean's fingers buried in his own ass._

_Sam realises Dean's about to implode if he doesn't get what he wants so Sam slides a second finger inside, crooking them just so, hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves that usually forces his brother to beg and plead and offer up ridiculous things so that Sam doesn't stop._

_"Oh fuck..." The one thing about Sam's unnaturally long fingers; they never fail to hit the right spot. Dean's stomach tenses as his muscles tighten against Sam's skin. He slams his head into the wall, forcing bright spots to dance across his closed eyes, and moans, long and low and full of need._

_Sam's higher functions finally catch up with his baser instincts and he hooks an arm under the leg still steadying Dean. Flattening his palm against the wall, Sam straightens his arm and hauls Dean into the air. Muscles straining against the weight, he withdraws his fingers from his brother's ass and guides himself to Dean's opening. Head of his cock nestled between Dean's cheeks, Sam grips Dean's thigh and slams his hips forward, pinning him against the wall._

_Dean feels Sam lift him into the air and in amongst the lustful haze now clouding his mind, he wonders when his baby brother got so strong. Bracing his shoulders against the wall, Dean locks his ankles behind Sam's back and wraps his arms round his brother's shoulders._

_Dean fits into the curve of Sam's thighs perfectly,ass moulding itself to straining muscles as Sam begins to thrust up into him. Sam pants against the weight and repositions his feet, angling them both backwards, "God De...so tight, so hot. Burns."_

_Dean cranes his neck, forces himself forward far enough to latch onto Sam's pulsing jugular. Biting down hard, sucking in time with his brother's thrusts, Dean flattens his tongue against Sam's hummingbird heart beat. Sam's cock is filling him, stretching him. He keeps pulling almost all the way out just so Dean can feel his muscles brush the head of his brother's cock and it's sending waves of pleasure up and down Dean's spine, causing him to convulse and shake round him._

_Sam's legs are aching, his back is cracking with every upwards thrust but he will _not_ let Dean's feet hit the floor. Having him pinned up against the wall, squirming and groaning, is too addictive to stop, even if Sam's gonna end up with a crick neck and sore thighs for a week._

_Digging his nails into the wall, almost ripping one from it's bed, Sam locks his arms and lifts Dean a little higher. Pulling back, Sam lets just his tip rest inside Dean's ass and shallow fucks him until his big brother is heaving for breath and begging._

_"Sam...Sammy,please...not enough, need..."_

_Sam ignores Dean's whispered pleas and continues his short sharp jerks. Dean's cock is red and throbbing and leaking against Sam's chest and he really wants to be able to wrap his fingers round it but can't risk moving either of his arms, "Dean, touch yourself for me."_

_Dean's eyes shoot open and his lips part, tongue running along the curve of his bottom lip and he reaches between them. Running his thumb down the vein pulsing the length of his shaft, Dean groans as he swipes the pad of his thumb against his twitching head, "Sammy...god Sammy. Can imagine your hands, your mouth...."_

_Sam's close to loosing it. He can feel his orgasm blossoming at the base of his spine and he knows Dean isn't far off, not judging by the way he keeps clenching round the cock thrusting inside him. Laying his lips at Dean's ear Sam whispers words of encouragement, words that he knows will pull Dean over the edge with him._

_Sam's hot breath ghosts across Dean's sensitive lobe as he tells him exactly what he wishes he could do to Dean's straining cock._

_"If I wasn't slamming you into this wall...oh god...if I could touch you, I'd lean down, suck the tip of your cock between my lips, lap at your weeping slit."_

_Dean's whole body is on fire. Heat courses along his veins as his mind paints a picture with Sam's whispered words, "Jesus Sammy, yes, god yes," Dean jerks his fist quicker, every mumbled word and thrust of Sam's hips forcing little spurts of pre-come across his knuckles._

_Sam snakes his tongue behind Dean's ear, licks along the crease, "I'd take you so far back, so deep that you'd be able to feel my tonsils resting against your cock. I'd...fuck...I'd hollow my cheeks and..."_

_Dean cries out, ass hole twitching and squeezing Sam, stream of hot come coating Sam's chest, as his head bounces off the wall, "Fucking hell, _Sammy_ "_

_Sam feels Dean baring down on him almost painfully and his body responds on instinct. His ears pop and something deep inside 'snaps' as he comes, hard. Filling Dean so much that Sam can feel his own release leaking from his brother's ass down the side of his still pulsing shaft, "De... _fuck!_ "_

_Sam unlocks his forearms, leans away from the wall and laces his fingers behind Dean's back. Cradling his shaking brother against his chest, Sam walks them backwards until his legs hit the edge of the couch. Lowering them both carefully, Sam strokes Dean's neck, lets his fingers sooth away the aftershocks of his orgasm, "De?You okay?"_

_Dean's vision is swimming and he feels a bit sick. He'll never admit it to his little brother but he almost blacked out and he's having trouble concentrating on anything other than Sam's cock still nestled inside him and the rhythm of his breathing, "Yeah, just...gimme a minute."_

_Sam takes advantage of Dean's lack of coordination to get a proper cuddle. Dean doesn't really do hugs, not as a general rule. He'll squeeze Sam's ass, he'll lean into him every chance he gets, he constantly seems to be touching him. But someone has to have died, usually one or the other of them, for Dean to pony up a proper hug._

_Dean feels Sam splay his fingers on his back and leans his head against his baby brother's shoulder, not willing to pop the bubble. He'll give him shit about needing post-sex cuddles later._

Dean's voice drags Sam away from the memory of Dean in his arms and he looks up to find his big brother smirking down at him.

Dean spots Sam at the water's edge and wanders over, expecting him to be deep in Sammy thought. What he finds is his little brother, face turned to the sun, eyes closed and playful smile gracing his lips. Judging by the tent in his trousers and the happy noises he's making, Sam's thinking about something decidedly un-pout worthy, "Am I disturbing you?"

Sam hears the smirk in Dean's voice and chooses to ignore it. Pulling his feet from the water and drying them against the towel nudging his fingers, Sam stands and cracks his shoulders, "We homeward bound?"

The sadness behind the question isn't lost on Dean and he bumps Sam's shoulder before turning back towards the car, "Yeah, Bobby just called. Got a suspected haunting not far from here."

Sam slides into the passenger seat and gives the cabin one last longing look before turning to Dean and tilting his head, "Don't 'spose you'd consider giving it to Garth and staying a while longer..."

Dean smiles and reaches out to squeeze Sam's knee, gunning Baby's engine, "Afraid not Sammy...Although, we can always ask if they'd keep the place for us once a year."

The force of Sam's body landing in his lap nearly shoves Dean straight back out the driver's side door.


End file.
